


Scarf

by ceywoozle



Series: One Word Bottomjohn Prompts [41]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Inanimate Object
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:49:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceywoozle/pseuds/ceywoozle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the One Word Bottomjohn Prompt Series and the Baker Street Monologues Series.</p><p>It's not easy being a scarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarf

It's not easy being a scarf. At least…not  _Sherlock Holmes'_  scarf.

You would think it would be a simple life, wouldn't you? I mean, hanging about all day. _Draping._  But let me tell you something. Being Sherlock Holmes'  _anything_  is never an easy task. Just ask the magnifying glass. Or the tea cup. Or the coat. Actually no, don't ask the coat. We're trying to keep it calm these days.

But my point is, it's really not as easy as it seems.

Take last Wednesday. I mean, nothing spectacular about Wednesdays, is there? It wasn't even that cold. But of course, because it's Sherlock Holmes, after I spent half an hour flapping behind helplessly and almost getting lost on a fire escape, we finally emerged triumphant, cornering our suspect in an alley way. End of the story, right? Happy ending! Job well done!

Nope.

Because  _naturally,_  Sherlock Holmes lost the handcuffs last week (and let me tell you the ruckus  _that_  caused among the spare keys) so of course, what's the obvious solution to this problem? Of  _course!_  Let's use the  _scarf_  to tie the suspects hands! Never mind the way it stretches my fibres so that it takes weeks before I'm back to my proper shape. Never mind the fact that the ground in this disgusting alley is absolutely  _coated_  in filth and that I'm  _wool_  and John Watson has never even  _heard_  of the gentle cycle. Oh, no! Let's not consider  _any_  of those things when we decide to use  _the scarf_  to tie the suspect's hands together!

And that's not even the worst of it. Oh,  _no!_  You would think that would have been bad enough, wouldn't you? Except that after Lestrade and his entire inept team had finally showed up to take the man away, what do you think happened next? Sherlock Holmes had an idea! That's right.  _An Idea._

“Say, John,” said Sherlock Holmes. “I know of someone else who needs tying up.”

I mean come  _on._  Is that honestly the best line he could have come up with?

And as if John Watson's crimes against woollens wasn't horrific enough, he immediately agreed. So there I was, wrapped about John Watson's arms while Sherlock Holmes buggered him against the alley wall, with absolutely no regard for the rough brick dragging at my skeins and causing me to fuzz like a sheep before a storm, never _mind_  the further filth now working its ways between my threads.

And when finally they were done, when finally I thought, _This is it. My torture has come to an end._  What do you think happened next? 

That's right: _The Clean Up._

I've heard the others speak of this before. The tshirts. The linens. The sofa. The table. The carpets. The chairs. The floorboards. The kitchen worktop. The towels. The coat. The gloves. But  _never,_ in my wildest nightmares, had I thought _I_  would be subjected to such a use. Never had I thought that this lot would be mine.

That day, that fateful Wednesday afternoon, I was proven wrong.

It's not easy being a scarf, dear reader. It's not easy. And before you ask, no; John Watson still has not found out about the gentle cycle.


End file.
